You Know You're a Marauder When
by Starblaze and Solaris
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. A collection of humorous drabble-style thingys pertaining to the Marauders. There's a bit of JPLE in here, but it's mostly James oggling from a safe distance, and if you put on slash goggles and squint there might be some RLSB, because it wasn't intended but there's a chance Sol just couldn't help herself, even subconsciously. A friendship fic.


**Sol: So look at this ancient dinosaur! This (or part of it anyway) came from a backup of my year seven files. That makes it **_**really, really old!**_

**Star: This means it is quite probably not safe to read if you do not wish to lose any IQ points. If you're safe in the knowledge of your own intellectual superiority, however, read on, and we'll see you in Bedlam. Third room on the right on the second floor, the one with the padded walls and paper **_**everywhere**_**.**

**Sol: Oh, and thanks to Pleben for the lyrics to the coconut song. Also, curse you, for getting the ruddy thing stuck in my head all day.**

**Rating: T, for the occasional implication which is unsuitable for the small people.**

**Genre: Humour/Friendship**

**Disclaimer: Not rich here, not Rowling. More's the pity.**

**You Know You're A Marauder When:**

You hardly blink an eyelid when one of your best mates turns into a four-legged furry mammal.

_Remus stood on the steps of the castle and let out a piercing whistle. A moment later, a large, shaggy-haired dog appeared, bounding up to him and licking at his hands and face enthusiastically. A moment later, the dog vanished and a tall, elegant youth with shaggy hair stood in Remus' arms, grinning cheerfully even as he was scolded for indiscretion._

You have mastered the art of appearing innocent, even when caught red-handed.

_The clack of footsteps on the cold stone floor disturbed the four boys, who exchanged alarmed glances as the sound grew louder and closer. The various tools the boys had been using were scattered over the bathroom floor, and two of them were in the process of performing switching spells on various sections of the plumbing beneath the sinks, and were therefore lying flat on their backs. One of the other two brandished a crowbar, which he had been using to pry the panels away from beneath the sinks, and at an urgent sign from the fourth, who was closer to the door, he tucked it under the sinks built around a large pillar – and straight into the ribs of one of the boys on the floor, who let out a loud yelp before his companion slapped a hand over his mouth. The footsteps paused, then became louder as they approached and the door quickly opened. The owner of the feet which made the footsteps entered to find four boys standing in a line, all wearing expressions which implied that butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, and two of them coated in dirt all down their backs, which could be seen in the mirrors above the sinks behind them. That the entire room was a shambles had no effect on the identical "who, me?" expression that each boy wore, and the owner of the footsteps simply shook their head before declaring,_

"_Detention in the trophy room, seven in the evening, tomorrow. For now, back to bed, and sharply with it."_

The detention is almost as fun as the reason you have acquired it.

_The smell of Brasso was sharp and acrid, and the taste doubly so. That was irrelevant, however, when the only reason he could taste it was that it was smeared thickly through his best mate's hair, which was as haywire as always and fought its way into his slightly open mouth. The best mate in question lay squashed on the ground beneath him, where the pair had ended up after their impromptu wrestling match. They were still giggling breathlessly when another stained hand appeared to try to drag them into an upright position, but the boy on the floor simply grabbed it and yanked. With a surprised cry, a third body flopped down atop them, forcing the air from their lungs, and a moment later a fourth joined the pile, tripped by the third boy's flailing feet._

"_Oof!" became the sound of the evening, but even as the third boy began to rub slippery fluid into the second boy's long black hair they all started to giggle, especially once the boy in question realised what was going on and started to wriggle, causing an avalanche of limbs and more than a few elbows and knees in uncomfortable places. The laughter didn't stop, however, until they were all sprawled out in a puddle of happy boy-limbs over the cold stone floor of the trophy room._

You can walk from classroom to hideout to secret passage to classroom with your eyes shut, and only ever bang into non-permanent fixtures, such as other students.

_James and Sirius danced down the corridor, hands crossed and grasping the other's tightly as they spun through the hallways. Their eyes were firmly closed, their heads tilted back as far as they could go, and their mouths were wide open. They were also, to the horror of the portraits lining the walls, singing._

"_Oh, I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts! (diddle-y-de!) There they are all standing in a row! Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head…"_

_They turned a corner without pausing for breath, Sirius almost swinging his lankier companion around the outside of the curve. A moment later, there was a high-pitched squeak, a loud series of thuds, and a moment later the boys came racing back along the corridor, eyes now open as they fled. James threw some parting words over his shoulder as he ran._

"_Sorry Evans!"_

The sight of a certain red-headed female sends you all running for the hills, tails between your legs (unless you're Prongs, in which case there is something else cumbersome between your legs).

_Three boys stood in the corridor – correction. Two boys stood in the corridor, another boy kneeled on all fours to act as a stool for the taller of them so they could reach the ceiling, or more accurately, the candelabra fastening. The standing boys both had black hair, although the taller boy, lanky and apparently made entirely from elbows and standing on his comrade's back, appeared to have more of a black mop than actual hair. The boy on the floor had a short, but sturdy torso, and the total opposite of his lanky co-conspirator, as he appeared to have maintained all of his puppy fat since he first arrived at the school and he was almost baby-faced as opposed to consisting of one hundred percent angles._

_The boy standing on the floor handed a piece of mistletoe carefully to his standing friend, chuckling as the kneeling boy complained about the exponential growth of the boy on his shoulders and demanded that he eat less of the school's much-loved trifle. It was as the messy-haired boy was protesting this point and attempting to defend his beloved pudding that footsteps were heard, clacking sharply on the stone._

_The boy on the ground padded quickly towards one end of the corridor and the junction, apparently spotted something and pegged it back towards the others as fast as he could, legs whirling in the not-quite-got-the-hang-of-it stride belonging to all teenage boys. He yanked his blond, kneeling friend up by the wrist and dragged him along the corridor, toppling the lanky boy onto the floor as he did so. The blond and black-haired boys quite literally dived for the cover of the nearest tapestry, falling happily through into the passageway behind and safety. The other boy struggled up just as a hint of red hair appeared around the corner, and took half a step towards it before he too felt the grip of his brunette companion and was practically thrown through the tapestry._

_If anyone had been there to hear it, they might have heard a quite curse, followed quickly by the exclamation;_

"_Evans!"_

You know your school and grounds better than the back of your own hand, because it is far more interesting to explore than the crevices or scars over your knuckles.

_Remus wandered down the halls, nose in his book. He absently reached out to grasp the handrail of the approaching staircase, and used it as a pivot to direct himself down to the next floor. He carefully widened his stride halfway down to avoid the vanishing step before returning to his usual pace and reaching the floor below. Without pause, he turned on his heel and loped along the corridor, turning the page of his book and following the curve of the wall, sidestepping to neatly pass a sculpture of a centaur with a spider hanging from a strand of webbing on its tail. Again he swung around a corner, absent-mindedly lifting a tapestry and ducking under it before lowering the same hand to turn another page. The gentle slope of the tunnel led him down to what appeared to be a dead end, until he reached up and patted the wall until his pale hand grasped a protrusion and pulled. A clunk, a click and a whir later, he was stepping out again into the entrance hall and across it to the Great Hall. Burbling voices met his ears as he turned yet another page and navigated the busy room until he could drop into his own seat with a sigh. He reached out for the jug of pumpkin juice, then jumped, his gaze leaving his book for the first time as someone grabbed his hand and pulled it across the table to inspect it. A long, aristocratic finger ran along his own middle finger, and he cocked an eyebrow in search of an explanation._

"_You have a new scar," commented Sirius, his brows pulled together in concern and curiosity. Remus drew his hand back and examined it with mild interest._

"_So I do," he said, reaching out again for the jug. "Why is this relevant? I need food before I can deal with your strangeness in the mornings, Sirius." Sirius waved this off to ask,_

"_Where did you get it, Moony? It wasn't there last week, and our last late-night adventure was two weeks back." Remus shrugged._

"_No idea. It's not important, either."_

"_So you can walk all the way down from the tower with your nose in a book without crashing into anything – don't deny anything, Moony, you know that's what you did – but you can't remember how you damaged yourself badly enough that even _Sirius_ notices?" James seemed particularly amused and incredulous by this, ego boosted by Peter's appreciative sniggers. Sirius looked indignant, but Remus just rolled his eyes as he poured his juice._

"_That is correct, Prongs. A small scratch against being able to read without you nutjobs interrupting all the time? No choice. Your point?" An expression which might be called 'sheepish' flickered across James' face, but it was quickly gone._

"_Just think it's a bit daft, Moony. Because you are, sometimes." Remus' eyes rolled again, but his attention returned to his book and the four of them settled back in to breakfast._

Every question from an authority figure produces an instinctive, knee-jerk lie reaction. Even little questions like, 'Why is the Slytherin dorm flooded to knee-depth in porridge?"

"_Where is Mr Black, Mr Potter? He is late for detention in my office."_

"_Not a clue, Professor."_

"_Then where is his broom? I assume he does not shrink it to lock away in his trunk every time he has finished using it."_

"_Actually Professor, he does. He's rather fond of that broom, if you'll believe it…."_

"_Who is hiding under that sofa, Mr Pettigrew?"_

"_Nobody, Professor. It is most likely a pile of laundry, probably a firstie's."_

"_Are you sure, Mr Pettigrew? It appears to be moving."_

"_I'm sure Professor – don't worry about it too much, my laundry was found to have mutated overnight once into some sort of furry, growling creature. It turned back after a week."_

"_Why is the Slytherin dormitory flooded knee-deep in porridge, Mr Lupin?"_

"_I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that Professor. Could it be a cookery spell which went a little wrong? Perhaps someone performed accidental magic while dreaming of breakfast?"_

"_I think your explanation may be a little far-fetched, Mr Lupin."_

"_Oh no, Professor – I once conjured a bar of chocolate the size of my pillow in my sleep. Sirius has never let me forget it since."_

"_What on Earth do you think you are doing, Mr Black?"_

"_I believe, Minnie darling, that I am dancing the can-can."_

"_That is Professor to you. You are dancing naked on the grounds, Mr Black?"_

"… _Absolutely!"_

The answer to life, the universe and everything was dungbombs in first year, but you've moved onto better things since then.

_Four young boys roared with laughter behind a tapestry as students fled the corridor, jumpers and hands over their mouths and noses to block out the odour of months-old tuna sandwich and horse dung. The sounds of approaching teachers made the boys tone down to chuckles as they slipped away along the passageway, confident of their impressive victory and pleased with their latest entertainment._

_Five years later, those same boys had almost become men, although they had returned to their hiding place behind the tapestry to observe the calculated chaos in the corridor. They exchanged high fives as a pair of boots pin wheeled through the air and collided with an older man's forehead, stifling giggles at his quiet oaths and the ferocity with which he returned the gesture, grabbing the boots from where they bobbed merrily beside him and throwing them viciously at a nearby suit of armour. As the armour retaliated with its own metal spurs, the four boys collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath as they laughed until their eyes watered._

Howling/baying/squeaking/roaring at the moon is acceptable and often expected social behaviour.

_Moony tilted his head to the darkened sky and howled his joy. A higher, but equally powerful howl joined his, and although his eyes remained closed he felt the presence of his packmate at his side, smaller than he by less than an inch, warm and thickly furry. They called together for a few minutes, enjoying the sensations of security, pack-safety and the power of the pack. After a few minutes they lowered their heads, canine jaws hanging as they drew in air. A few feet away, Prongs stood unsurely beside a tree, weight shifting between his hooves as Wormtail performed a strange scurrying dance to avoid falling off the large stag's head. Padfoot stepped towards them, ears cocked in curiosity at their hesitance. A moment later he padded over and circled behind the stag, whining softly as he nudged the other animal's haunches. The stag stumbled the rest of the way into the clearing to an indignant squeak from Wormtail._

_Once all four of them were in the clearing, Padfoot seemed content, but now Moony was not. He yipped lightly, head held high as his ears flicked once in an implicit order. The others moved closer, grouping around the large wolf, watching as he tipped his head towards the moon and howled. When, after a moment or so, they did not join in, he lowered his head and snarled, amber eyes glinting. The night paused, frozen in that moment until Wormtail threw back his tiny head and squeaked loudly. Canine jaws dropped in doggy laughter, and even Prongs looked appreciative past the immobile face of a deer._

_In seconds, they were all crying out to the moon above, white-blue light tinting the dew-dusted grass with silver as the sounds of the pack echoed over Hogwarts' grounds._

You seriously consider setting fire to something or someone as a form of distraction for another, less destructive prank (or acquisition of material for a prank).

_Sirius aimed his wand carefully, and with a whispered word, the Ravenclaw prefect's cloak began to smoulder. Moments later, the boy noticed the smell, and in short succession the sight and feel of fire creeping up his left flank. Under cover of his shrieks, James and Peter crept past; Peter perched in the hollow of James' shoulder where he had a good view of the chaos. The prefect's friends gathered round to stamp out the fire, and one tried an _Aguamenti_ which soaked the poor boy. By the time the fuss died down, and the cloak had been _Reparo'd _more times than was strictly necessary by the paranoid prefect, James and Peter had returned, complete with the range of items necessary for next week's gravitational modification._

You can (and have) slept through explosions in your dorm ranging from minor to moderate, although you are always woken up in time to see the big ones.

_Remus lay curled into a ball in the middle of his bed; the covers rucked and twisted around him into what might be described as a nest. He was breathing deeply and evenly, utterly undisturbed by the chaotic scene outside the rich bed curtains. He would have called it a 'ruckus;' and with good reason, for that is precisely what it was._

_Three teenage boys were dancing in the fashion of Shakespearean witches around a bubbling cauldron in the middle of the room. The cauldron in question was hanging from the ceiling by a trio of thick chains, and bubbling energetically. On occasion, green or blue sparks would leap from the surface, and one of the boys would jump aside to avoid being hit._

_They had reached a consensus that St Elmo's fire was not in fashion at the moment, and they would rather not set their clothes, or themselves, on fire with the stuff. The fact that one of the other beds in the room was already gently smouldering did not seem to deter them from debating their plan of action in loud whispers._

"_Bicorn horn, Pete – remember the light show last time?"_

"_Hell to that Prongs – my ears still haven't recovered, because you were clinging on my arm and prevented me from plugging them up."_

"_But Pete –"_

"_You're both wrong. A bit of salamander skin, a pinch of mercury, an ounce of potassium stuff from Slughorn's drawer…"_

_An explosion shook the room, dust falling from the ceiling as purple lights and billowing clouds of dark red smoke filled the air. A couple of minutes later, it all settled, and the three boys (who had taken cover under one of the beds to watch the show) emerged._

"_Well that was good. I don't see any singe marks on the ceiling though. More potassium? More mercury?"_

"_Honestly Padfoot, you're terrible at this. Drop those in the cauldron and we'll end up with more smoke. Open the window while I get the bicorn horn and the armadillo bile –"_

"_No Prongs! We decided already, no bicorn horn. Just drop the rest in and see what happens."_

_This particular combination created another interesting light-and-smoke display, but when the three boys emerged from under the bed again, Sirius made the same noise of disappointment at not finding any marks on the ceiling._

"_Is Remus awake yet? He'd know what we need to add," said Peter wistfully. James shrugged._

"_No idea. Go check, Padfoot, and wake him up if he isn't. Like Wormtail says, we need our resident genius."_

"_And that's not me, you prat?" Sirius put his nose in the air in an exaggerated manner reminiscent of his mother and sniffed. "You simply don't appreciate greatness when you see it, you mongrel." With that, the tall boy strode elegantly around the still-hanging cauldron and vanished between Remus' curtains. A moment later, he reappeared on the floor, on his back, wearing a surprised expression while James and Peter laughed themselves nearly to tears._

"_I'd drop you two on the floor too if you poked cold, wet noses into my stomach when I was sleeping. What do you want?"_

"_How do we make it mark the ceiling, Moony?" asked Peter quickly. He had spent enough time on the floor recently without Remus throwing him there too. Remus snorted._

"_James is the resident explosive idiot. You pick your colours – potassium, lithium, armadillo bile, whatever you want – then add salamander skin and bicorn horn, and you'll get the usual vast explosion. Hasn't he mentioned this already?"_

_James just smirked while Sirius and Peter gave their smaller comrade sheepish grins._

"_Sorry Moony. Want to watch the show as recompense?"_

"_Go for it."_

_This time, not only did the walls shake, but the floor, the windows and the ceiling all shuddered angrily against the power of the explosion, and to Sirius' delight, when the (red, purple, green and blue) light show faded and he could see again, there was a large, dark red circle on the ceiling, which faded at the edges into the usual cream coloured plaster._

Broken noses, fingers, toes and nails, as well as various other minor ailments such as scratches, grazes and small burns are all fixed with spells so well known that you and your friends could perform them silently in your sleep, and very nearly have.

_Peter rolled to a stop at the bottom of the stairs; a moment later, James was kneeling beside him, chiding his clumsiness merrily and waving his wand above the chubby boy's swollen foot. A moment later, the pair of them had re-joined the others on their way to the kitchens._

_Remus groaned as he realised that his hand, which had been probing his forehead, felt no hair. His conclusion: the explosion of mere moments ago had done a thorough job of burning off his eyebrows. Peter stood before him, his own (pristine) eyebrows raised as he flicked his wand to return Remus' to their rightful place and repair the singed skin._

_Sirius gasped, his face pale as he clutched at his ribs and shoulder with his good arm. Then Remus was beside him on the Quidditch pitch, lips tightening as he pulled the robes out of the way and saw the blood and protrusion of bone from the otherwise fleshy, muscular shoulder. One whisk of his wand, and the blood was gone; another, the bone returned in grinding pain to its proper place inside Sirius' arms; and a third caused the skin to knit over, forming a thin pink scar as a reminder of the incident. After a grateful hug from his friend, Remus left the pitch to allow Madame Hooch to determine whether Sirius was fit to continue playing._

_James yelped in pain as he toppled from his bed, pushed by a dozy Sirius who had walloped him as he attempted to have the boy return to his own four-poster. His vision blurred as his skull collided with the edge of his trunk, but after a moment, Sirius had leaned over, eyes still shut as jabbed his wand vaguely in his friend's direction. The pain in James' head receded, and he quickly clambered to his feet before attacking again – it was his bed, and he would not be denied!_

Any robes/items of clothing which do not belong to yourself or your friends are fair game to be dipped in squid pheromones and dropped in the lake so you can observe Hagrid's latest pet.

_The three Slytherin prefects squawked and yelled in indignation as they fought, naked but for their boxers in the prefect bathroom. Beneath James' invisibility cloak, Sirius and Remus buried their faces in each other's shoulders to stifle the giggles, as they shuffled inelegantly towards the door, their arms full of green and silver robes. Outside the bathroom, Peter and James waited with a small hovering cauldron surrounded by a bubble of impermeable magic – the same charm, Remus guessed, as the bubble-head charm. The reason why was obvious when the four of them hid in the nearest classroom and the charm was removed – it absolutely _reeked._ The robes were dropped with a slick 'plop' into the gooey liquid, and Peter held his nose with one hand as he used the other to stir them into the fluid with a long metallic rod._

_An hour later, the Giant Squid was happily wearing a robe on each of several tentacles, and the Marauders were in fits of laughter at the side of the lake._

When encountering an inverted room, your first reaction is not: "What the hell?" but instead: "I thought this was happening next Thursday?"

_Remus wandered into the Great Hall in search of breakfast, and drew up short in surprise. Beneath his feet, fluffy May clouds scudded by on a gentle breeze, and the occasional brave bird ventured overhead despite the risks associated with such a magical area. Above him, the long house tables, complete with benches and crockery, rested upside down on the __ceiling, the tables wedged inelegantly into the gap formed by the dome. The crockery and the benches, however, hung with no visible support, which would have encouraged anyone else to step towards the walls, or just give up and go in search of other sources of food._

_Remus just sighed._

"_Wrong day, my moronic compadres– this was supposed to be happening next Thursday. Clearly Prongs doesn't know his days of the week."_

Greasy hair in the corridors indicates a target; grey hair in a bun indicates time to flee.

_Vibrant red hair bent close to greasy black, and muffled laughter emerged from the pair. Further up the tall staircase, James Potter's hands clenched into fists and his face darkened. Beside him, Sirius noticed and tapped his shoulder, grinning and winking as he assured him that he had 'the perfect gift for smelly old Snivellus.' James' expression grew fierce, and he nodded, holding his hand out palm up expectantly. In it Sirius placed their latest toy – marble sized orb of what seemed to be a rough fabric. One sceptical expression later, and the boy was explaining everything in a low voice._

"_Size differential field from a base diameter of one foot. That's twelve inches origin, and how big is that ball? An inch? That's a jelly, gooey sphere of two feet wide about to explode dramatically upon contact with human hair." Sirius' deviant, delighted expression spread to James, who weighed the ball in his palm for a split second more before lobbing it powerfully, directly at the back of Snape's head._

_The resultant explosion of goop covered the unfortunate boy and his companion entirely. They froze on the stairs, faces burning with humiliation as Sirius and James hooted with laughter above them. Snape lifted a slimy hand and wiped a glob away from each eye with a slurp. He examined it in distaste._

"_Green," he sneered. "At least you chose an appropriate colour, _Black_."_

"_It matches the rest of your foul dungeons, Snivellus. Now you can blend in with the wall hangings on purpose!"_

_Snape practically spat his response._

"_At least I don't need to be the centre of attention all the time to make up for the fact that my own family got sick of me."_

_Sirius stiffened, fists forming, but before he could tackle the other boy a tall, thin woman appeared at the bottom of the flight of stairs, grey hair restrained by a strict bun. Content with their revenge on Snape for daring to be friends with Lily Evans (and it was a shame she'd been caught in the goo explosion too, although he was hardly about to pass up the chance to ogle her lithe frame), James grabbed his friend's arm and pulled. Although punching Snivelly in the (overlarge) nose would be satisfying, and an appropriate retort to the jibe about Sirius' family, he was not in the mood for a week of detention polishing trophies. Sirius stumbled, but tore his eyes from his opponent long enough to notice what James had – a furious Professor McGonagall. A moment later, they were gone, leaving no sign that they had ever been there but the dripping students in the middle of the staircase._

Your question when coming upon your best mate brandishing a bottle of alcohol, regardless of strength, is not "Where did you get _that?_" or "Isn't that against the rules?" but is instead, "Hey, where's mine you dozy ape?"

_James and Remus staggered up the staircase laughing hysterically. Professor Stickleburn, this year's tubby and bald DADA teacher, was currently enamoured of Sir Cadogan, who was failing to appreciate the aging man's attentions and was therefore repeatedly threatening to chop off some of the professor's most prized body parts. The teenagers had to lean on each other to stay upright past the shaking of their bodies, but they finally pushed the door open and stumbled into their room, once again breathing in something resembling a normal pattern._

_What they saw inside set them off again._

_Sirius was dressed in full pirate regalia, complete with tricorn hat and eye patch, wielding what appeared to be a well-sharpened and perfectly-polished cutlass in one hand, and a bottle of rum in the other. He appeared to be in the process of either knighting or beheading Peter judging by the position they were in, although most would-be knights weren't cross-eyed drunk at the time of knighting and on the verge of vomiting all over the would-be knight-er's shoes. Sirius looked up, confused, at the sound of the door opening, and almost chopped off Peter's ear. Peter didn't react, except to hiccup in a bewildered sort of manner. Weeping with laughter, Remus and James crossed the room to recover the cutlass and rum, respectively. James tilted the bottle towards his mouth, and made a moue of disappointment when no rum fell from it._

"_Where's mine, you pathetic excuse for a pirate?"_

_**Finis**_


End file.
